"The Cistern": Seferis and Coulentianos

 

Here in the earth a cistern has taken root

den of secret water that gathers there.

Its roof, resounding steps. The stars

don’t blend with its heart. Each day

grows, opens and shuts, doesn’t touch it.

The world above opens like a fan

and plays with the wind’s breath

in a rhythm that expires at sunset

flaps its wings hopelessly and throbs

at the whistling of a destined suffering.

On the curve of a dome of pitiless night

cares tread, joys move by

with fate’s quick rattle

faces light up, shine a moment

and die out in an ebony darkness.

Faces that go! In rows, the eyes

roll in a gutter of bitterness

and the signs of the great day 
take them up and bring them closer

to the black earth that asks no ransom.

George Seferis, poem one of the sequence “The Cistern”, translation by  E. Keeley and P. Sherrard.

Published in 1932, “The Cistern” marked Seferis’ abandonment of a rhymed, lyrical mode in favor of a more natural and freer one that is characteristic of all his later poems; the Greek sculptor Kostas Coulentianos (1918-1995) did some drawings for this poem which were first exhibited in Paris in 1950; in 1975 the Greek publishing firm “Themelio” issued a folio containing the drawings as well as the poem in Seferis’ own handwriting—exquisite—the poem seems to be chiseled onto the paper.

Of course I don't remember where/when I found this treasure but at least I know how much I paid for it because it’s penciled in on the last page: 300 drachmas then or approximately .80 euro now or about $1.08 as long as the US treasury lasts.

William Michaelian, eat your heart out!

The Form vs Content Thesis One Last Time

What shapes us remains

As much a form

Of communion

As a communion

Of forms

Every time.

Definitely Not Lemmings #33

A warm welcome to Zaina Anwar, whose poetry and painting can be viewed on her blog Indigenous Dialogues. Thanks for coming aboard the DNL Express, Zaina!

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Poets Burning for Recognition

A forest

Of white ashes smoldering

After an inferno.

Moderator’s comments: A case of A Burnt-Out Case hot on the heels of “You can’t see the forest for the trees?” How original, Cinquor! You must be glowing with satisfaction whereas my ashen face is turning green with envy.

Departures

Photograph taken in winter about twenty years ago with my ancient Miranda. A five-minute drive uphill and due west from my village of Remmatia, Chrisova, or Chrisotopos ("Golden Place")--its modern name--is a collection of approximately 20 houses, half of which have been abandoned by their owners who have departed for Athens and other more metaphorical worlds, as has this old woman lugging who knows what into the waiting fog. 

The small, black dirigible getting ready to crash into the bare mulberry tree is a memento left behind by the somewhat careless photographer who developed the picture and who has also taken off for a more perfect world.